Do or Die
by OhMyKai
Summary: Hogwarts: Sink or Swim Method. HP was born in 1993, rather than 1980. HP, instead, enters school in 2004. Hogwarts has changed, just a bit. Major AU.
1. 1

Hogwarts: Sink or Swim Method. What if the whole timeline of the tale of the Boy-Who-Lived was moved a little bit into the future? Harry Potter was born in 1993, rather than 1980; as a result, Voldemort's reign lasted 13 years longer than it should have. Harry, instead, enters school in 2004. Hogwarts has changed, just a bit. Major AU, eventual Super!Harry.

**Do or Die**

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..."

Dudley's birthday - how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents.

It seemed Dudley had gotten the new Call of Duty game he had wanted; as if his cousin didn't have enough Xbox 360 games already. Another present looked suspiciously like a skateboard, which he likely wouldn't use. Dudley had better things to do, like eat and watch movies.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turned back to focus on the bacon.

"Pull up your pants!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting. "What's the point of wearing a belt if you aren't going to use it?"

Harry grudgingly did as asked, expertly flipping the bacon at the same time. His Uncle Vernon always seemed to have something to say about 'kids these days' and seemed determined to take it out on his nephew. Harry, however, was undeterred. In fact, he was just waiting for the chance to get his ears pierced; a boy in Harry's 5th grade class had them, and Harry was of the opinion that it looked bloody awesome. The only problem was that Harry tended to keep his hair rather short - no way to keep the earrings hidden.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy." At these words, his aunt shot a look at Harry that he took to mean, 'see, you've never gotten this, and you never will.' Harry ignored the look. Petunia obviously yet to see the obvious downside to the blatant favoritism in their household – Dudley was slowly but surely turning into a useless lump whose only use was to consume more food.

"Alright, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, dear? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally, he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty…thirty…"

"Thirty-nine, darling," said Aunt Petunia.

Harry couldn't help it. He snorted.

"Do you have something to say, boy?" his uncle immediately snarled at him, looking up from his newspaper.

"Nothing at all…"

xxxxx

Harry left the premises shortly thereafter, having finished cleaning the kitchen and ignoring Dudley's loud exclamations of surprise and delight over his presents. Harry knew Dudley only pretended to be so happy with his presents just because he knew Harry had received nothing on his own birthday.

Walking three blocks west and one block north, he made his way to his personal safe haven. Marshall's house. Marshall had been his mentor and his friend for the past three years.

Walking across the unkempt lawn of yet another suburban home, Harry checked to make sure he still had his keys with him, and found them in the pocket of his jeans, which were once again hanging low. He paused for a moment at the door, hand poised to knock, then thought better of it and merely unlocked the door to let himself in.

He stepped inside, just to almost bump into a man who was clearly in a hurry to leave. The man looked like a surfer boy, except in his thirties – messy, sun bleached hair; button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and half the buttons undone; shorts; sandals. The whole deal.

Harry barely got a glimpse of the man before he stepped around Harry, saying, "Excuse me, I was just leaving." He shut the door sharply behind him, and the black haired boy was left alone. He blinked at the sudden darkness.

The black haired youth rolled his eyes in annoyance at the attitude of the man, but shook it off and headed into the kitchen.

A tall, muscled man sat at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and reading the newspaper. He had light brown skin and a rather plain face, except for the long curving scar on the left side of his face, stretching from his eyebrow to his ear.

He also noticed, with a smile, that the man's nose was still rather swollen from when Harry had punched him the day before.

"Marshall."

"Oh!" the man said, looking up for the first time. His gray eyes brightened upon seeing Harry. "Hullo, Harry. The Dursleys' let you out then?"

"Marshall," Harry repeated, looking his friend up and down. His green eyes flashed in amusement. "So what's with the guy that just left? Hmmm? Something you're not telling me?"


	2. 2

Hogwarts: Sink or Swim Method. What if the whole timeline of the tale of the Boy-Who-Lived was moved a little bit into the future? Harry Potter was born in 1993, rather than 1980; as a result, Voldemort's reign lasted 13 years longer than it should have. Harry, instead, enters school in 2004. Hogwarts has changed, just a bit.

**Do or Die**

"Aww, Harry. What's my business is my business. I wasn't expecting anyone over this early." Marshall smirked over at Harry, drawling out his words. The man's Australian accent seemed even more annoying than usual to Harry's ears.

"Early? It's going on 11," the boy frowned mockingly in disapproval. "Anyway," he continued, "No, I didn't finish my homework. I don't want to work on that shitty Science project yet. No, I found something interesting this morning." Harry reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a small envelope, stepping forward to hand it to his friend. He had yet to open the letter – it looked like something to open with Marshall by his side.

On the front of the envelope, it read:

_Mr. H Potter  
>The Cupboard under the Stairs<br>4 Privet Drive  
>Little Whinging<br>Surrey_

"I found this lying on my stomach when I woke up this morning."

"What." It was a statement, not a question. Marshall looked up at Harry, then down at the letter again. "You haven't opened it?"

Harry moved a little closer and snatched the letter back from Marshall. He quickly worked the envelope open, leaning forward so he and Marshall could read it together. "Maybe I'm being stalked?" he asked under his breath, then stopped breathing as he saw the first words of the letter.

_Hogwarts School of Magic_

_Mr. Harry Potter:_

_I am writing to notify you of your admission into the Hogwarts School of Magic. Should you choose to accept, I looked forward to seeing you this coming school year. Term begins on September 1st._

_A teacher will stop by to discuss the details of your possible schooling with us at your convenience. More specifically, tonight at 5pm._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment and a list of the courses we offer._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
>Deputy Headmistress<em>

_P.S. Yes, magic is real._

Both man and boy stayed still long enough to read the letter through twice, and then looked at each other.

Marshall spoke up first, deciding to ignore the elephant in the room. "Awfully presumptuous of them, setting the time and everything." He paused. "So what do you think?"

"…Really not sure. Prank, maybe? Dudley?" But he shook his head as soon as he said that. This wasn't Dudley's style. "Someone stalking me, it looks like? A kind of cult? Although…"

"What?" Marshall asked, when Harry didn't continue.

"Maybe it's real?" Harry asked hesitantly.

* * *

><p>Five o'clock was quickly approaching, and Harry was becoming increasingly anxious. A large part of him was doubtful anything could come of the upcoming meeting with his 'teacher,' but another, smaller part of him was hugely hoping that magic was real.<p>

He had even dressed for the occasion, wearing a slightly wrinkled green button down shirt and black jeans. That was the fanciest Harry ever planned on wearing.

The second Harry's wristwatch hit 5pm, there was a knock at the door. The dark haired boy, glancing nervously back at Marshall, opened the door and stepped back, plastering a polite smile on his face.

"Mr. Harry Potter," the woman said, looking imperiously down at him. "I am the World History Professor at Hogwarts, Lisa McLain." She paused, and the two stared awkwardly at each other. Harry straightened his hair nervously. "Were you planning on inviting me in?"

The professor was only slightly taller than him, but somehow towered over him. She was wearing a black suit – crisp white shirt underneath – complete with heels. She looked at him with her brow raised.

"Sorry," he said, "please come in." He flapped his hand vaguely, gesturing for her to step forward onto the immaculately clean carpet. He hoped her shoes got the carpet dirty.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Harry asked, wincing even as he said the words. He sounded so unsure of himself. He was never this polite.

"No, thank you, Mr. Potter." She smiled at him for the first time, although it didn't do much to soften the hard lines of her face. Apparently, offering tea had been the right move. "Do you have a parent or guardian you're keeping somewhere?"

"Yeah, I"ll go get them," he said resignedly, although he was pleased with how she phrased the question; as though he stored them away for when he needed them, in a cupboard or something. "I would prefer if my friend could stay to listen, to," Harry's voice had risen some at the last sentence, and he cut himself off before he sounded even more defensive. He paused. "Professor, this is Marshall." Everything he said sounded awkward, Harry thought.

Harry scurried off to find Petunia and Vernon, knowing they were both in the office in the basement, looking at the bills. They had such predictable schedules.

* * *

><p>"Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Potter? Mr. or Mrs. Dursley?"<p>

His new professor (His _magic_ professor. He still couldn't really get over that.) was smiling pleasantly and Marshall was frowning over a cup of tea. Also, the professor was twirling what looked like a magic wand around in her left hand. Harry gave a double take.

He remembered that she had asked him a question. "Yes, thank you, Professor." Harry wasn't a big tea drinker, really, but what if that was _magic _tea? He couldn't pass the opportunity up.

Just as he said the words, the elder Dursleys, following Harry, stepped into the room. Vernon's loud, angry mouth opened up, and, "Now wait just-"

And the history professor promptly cut him off. "Excuse me." She turned her head to stare at them both, her eyebrows lowering. Vernon immediately cut himself off, and McLain went back to smiling pleasantly. "Thank you. So, Mr. Potter." She looked toward him, scrutinizing him closely. He took a half step back unconsciously at the look in her eyes, before frowning and planting his feet firmly. What was it with this woman?

"Here is your tea, Mr. Potter," she said, suddenly nonchalant. She waved a hand impatiently towards the coffee table in the middle of the living room, where Harry spotted a second cup of tea. Harry didn't question where the cup had come from, or about the lack of teapot. He stepped forward.

"First thing's first: magic is real." And there, on the couch in front of him, she disappeared. Blinking in shock, and ignoring Petunia's quiet scream, Harry leaned forward, only to realize there was a wasp flying above the couch in lazy circles, right where his professor had sat. Another blink later, and the history professor once again sat on the couch, with that same pleasant smile. "I hope that is sufficient evidence. So, moving on. Second thing's first."

Her wand came up, pointing straight at the two Dursleys. Her wand twirled and then jabbed upward toward the ceiling. His relatives both froze where they stood, with arms held in midair awkwardly, and Vernon's mouth half open. Another wave of her wand, and the rocking chair behind them widened to the size of a loveseat. Then her wand seemed to pick them both up on invisible strings to move them over onto the rocking loveseat, one skinny and the other large, bumping into each other as they glided silently through the air.

Harry knew them both well enough to recognize the silent outrage in their eyes, and he smiled to himself.

"What," she said dangerously, "do you think you are doing? No, don't answer that." She held up her hand for silence, ignoring the fact that neither of the two was able to answer. "Everyone here knows what you're doing. The real question is, _how stupid are you?_" She paused, glaring at them both for a long minute, before sighing and shaking her head. "I can see that anything I say would be a wasted effort with you."

All Harry could think was, _Wow, she gave up pretty quickly. _He wasn't sure how to react to all this. His professor seemed to be taking things too far, but he had no idea what to say to stop her.

She stood up, somehow taller than before. She waved her wand, and his aunt and uncle slumped back in the loveseat, the chair rocking back dangerously far with Vernon's weight falling onto it.

Now, she seemed to be drawing pictures or words or something in the air with her wand, and she was muttering under her breath in what sounded like a different language. The professor stopped suddenly with a sharp downward slash with her wand, and there was a slight _whooshing_ sound. Harry, however, had no idea what she was trying to accomplish - nothing seemed any different.

She sat back down abruptly, a cup of tea held easily in one hand. He kept missing where and how she got her cups of tea. McLain sniffed at the tea, before setting it down on the table in front of her and clapping her hands together, her wand held between her pointer finger and thumb. And, in between the palms of her two hands, a flask appeared.

"What the hell?" Marshall said quietly, reminding Harry that he was still in the room. Harry was honestly having trouble doing anything but taking the whole situation in. It was too much for his brain to handle all at once, he thought. Was this what shock was like? He frowned, thinking about it.

McLain, having poured a healthy dollop of what appeared to be whiskey into her tea, smiled and said, "Well, I think that covers everything."

"What? No!" Harry replied eloquently. "I mean, aren't you here to tell me about the school?"

She stared at him, and then shook her head, saying, "No, I don't think so. Now, come along. We have people to see and places to meet." She took a sip of her tea. "Or something like that."

"What, seriously? You're not going to tell me anything?" Harry stared at her incredulously.

"Mr. Potter," she said severely, "do grow up. Do you expect everyone to hold your hand at Hogwarts, and wave your wand for you? Because they won't!" She raised her eyebrows impressively at him, and then sighed, standing up. "Now come along."

Harry nodded, then looked down at his tea cup, surprised to see it empty in his hand. He didn't remember picking it up from the table, let along drinking it. His mouth tasted of cinnamon and grass. And, looking over, Harry saw Marshall looking in surprise at his own empty cup. Harry hadn't thought Marshall even liked tea.

Harry turned to Lisa McLain, Professor of World History at Hogwarts School of Magic, who winked at him and called behind her and she walked towards the door.

"Your dearest aunt and uncle will be fine-" Harry snuck a glance, and saw that they were still frozen and glaring in his direction. "-I just took care of a few problems. Now, hurry up, magic awaits."


	3. 3

Hogwarts: Sink or Swim Method. What if the whole timeline of the tale of the Boy-Who-Lived was moved a little bit into the future? Harry Potter was born in 1993, rather than 1980; as a result, Voldemort's reign lasted 13 years longer than it should have. Harry, instead, enters school in 2004. Hogwarts has changed, just a bit.

**Do or Die**

Harry followed the professor out the front door and paused in the doorway. She turned toward him, raised a hand in farewell, and disappeared with a sharp _crack_.

Professor McLain no longer obstructing his view, Harry could now see the gleaming red Ferrari parked in the Dursleys' driveway. The car door opened and a young, red-headed teen stepped out of the driver's seat. He was wearing what was obviously a student's uniform, with a white button down shirt, green tie, and neat black pants and shoes. He made his way towards Harry, a smile appearing and freckles becoming obvious as he walked briskly forward.

He held out a hand to shake, and Harry realized the boy must be at least half a foot taller than himself. He shook hands with him with a firm grip.

"Weasley. Percival Weasley. Slytherin fifth year. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Hi." It was the only thing Harry's brain was able to come up with.

Percival Weasley's smile grew annoyingly understanding. "Yes, I realize this must be a lot all at once." He gestured toward the car behind him. "Plus I'm told this car is apparently rather impressive." The statement had a questioning undertone to it, and Percival looked at him expectantly.

"Mr. Weasley-"

"Oh, please, call me Percy," the self-proclaimed Percy interrupted. Harry thought the name sounded rather girly, but decided not to comment.

"Percy, then. That Ferrari is a very expensive car..."

"Oh, I got this car from my father. He makes them. Sells them for about ten galleons each, I believe."

There was a lull in the conversation, wherein Harry pondered how much a galleon was worth and Percy studied his car.

Percy then turned toward him and said brightly, "Well, shall we go then? We have a lot to talk about."

"I - hold on a second, please." He suddenly remembered all the questions he had about magic, but he couldn't leave just yet. He turned and stepped back into the house, quickly striding back into the living room. He found Marshall leaning over the two Dursleys on the couch, snapping his fingers in front of their unfocused eyes. His cousin was still nowhere to be found. Harry assumed he was playing one of his video games upstairs.

"Marshall," he said, startling the man. "I have to leave. I don't know when-" he flapped a hand at the Dursleys "-is gonna wear off. Can you stick around and make sure Dudley doesn't call the cops?"

"Uh, sure," Marshall said, blinking at him. "You'll be alright?"

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine." And thank the deities for friends like Marshall. He checked his watch. "I'll tell you everything later."

As he stepped back into the sunshine, he checked his watch again and finally comprehended the time. It was 5:09. It had only been nine minutes since his new professor had arrived in his doorstep.

His life had changed a lot in the past nine minutes.

Percy honked the car horn at him, and Harry lost his train of thought. He realized he'd just been standing in front of the car. He blushed and quickly slipped into the passenger seat, trying not to seem too impressed by the expensive car. The top of the car was now down, and everything seemed very roomy on the inside.

"Merlin. Okay. We have a lot to do in just a few hours. I don't know why Professor McLain decided to do this so late in the day," Percy said, smiling at him. He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like two small jewelry boxes. "These are for you." The teen flicked his wrist and a wand appeared in his hand. He tapped on the two boxes, they grew in size, and Harry realized that they were actually books.

The older boy handed Harry the plainer of the two books, brown and rather thin, with small silver letters on the front cover. _An Introduction to Magical Society._

"It's a basic guide to the wizarding world. It's not much, but it's more than you know, which is currently nothing."

"I know some things," Harry protested automatically, flipping to look at the chapter list.

Percy shook his head, smiling. "Believe me. You know nothing." He handed Harry the second book. It read _Hogwarts: A History_. "And that is everything you need to know about the history of Hogwarts. It hasn't been updated recently, but we'll get to that."

Percy started the car, and Harry was surprised at how quiet the Ferrari sounded. He backed out of the driveway quickly and turned to look casually at Harry as he went way above the speed limit down the street. Harry, alarmed, grabbed for a seat belt that wasn't there.

Percy laughed. "Don't worry. We're safe."

"Safe? How?"

"Magic," Percy replied, possibly trying to sound profound, seeing as he didn't elaborate. Harry assumed now wasn't the time to ask.

"So, on to the first rule of magic," Percy continued, apparently deciding to move on. Harry perked up, eager to learn something. "That is, try your best to adapt to the new culture. Of both the magical world and of Hogwarts itself. It's like going to a new country." Percy smirked. "So when you see something strange with our food, customs, language, or many traditions, keep your negative opinions to yourself!"

The Weasley boy had practically boomed the last few words, and Harry flinched away slightly in response. He looked towards the front of the car, just in time to see them nearly rear ending the minivan driving in front of them. At the last second, right when Harry was screaming, "Shit! Percy-" the Ferrari somehow slipped around the silver car in front of them, in a way that made Harry feel the need to avert his eyes. The newly dubbed wizard didn't quite understand it.

"Calm down, Harry," Percy said, frowning sternly at him. "I told you that we are perfectly safe. And were you listening? What is the first rule of magic?"

"Keep my negative opinions to myself," Harry replied obediently. He was still looking out the front of the car, watching as they sped down the quiet suburban street, easily slipping around other cars when necessary.

"Very good," Percy said, smiling at him again as he ignored another stop sign. "You have a lot to learn, so learn quickly before you start making judgments."

Percy looked over at him for a long moment, entirely comfortable with not looking at the street. "I should probably explain a few things," he said. "Right now, we're headed towards the Leaky Cauldron, which is one of the entrances into the biggest magical shopping center in the country. This particular entrance leads to Diagon Alley. It will have most everything we need."

"Um, Percy..." Harry started, before trailing off. "I don't have any money."

"Not to worry, Harry. I was told your parents left you quite a large inheritance."

"My...parents?" Harry asked, hesitating.

"Yes. Quite." Percy now looked awkward, blinking at him. "I should probably keep explaining."

He cleared his throat. "I'm not going to tell you about the history of the magical world. What you don't learn in class you can learn on your own. Instead, I'm going to start about 34 years ago, the start of the last magical war in Britain."

Harry's mouth formed an 'o' in shock. He forgot that the wizarding world might have bad parts to it, too.

"The Dark Lord's reign lasted from 1970 to 1994. It ended the year after you were born. Harry, your parents were James and Lily Potter, and they were on the opposite side of the war as the Dark Lord."

Harry could see where this was going, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"On October 31st, 1994, the Dark Lord attacked you and your parents. Your parents died defending you," Percy said softly, looking away. "But you somehow survived, and the Dark Lord perished. You were found with that scar," and Harry automatically put a hand up to his forehead, "and you were given the title of the Boy-Who-Lived. You're famous, Harry."

Whatever Harry had been expecting, that was not it. "Famous?" the black-haired boy croaked out. A part of him realized they were heading towards London, but couldn't bring himself pay attention to the world around him. Everything was focused on Percy. "My parents were wizards?"

"A wizard and a witch," Percy confirmed, and then paused. "There's more to the story of course, but you can learn about that yourself. And when we get to the school, I can introduce you to a few teachers who personally knew your parents."

Harry smiled gratefully, trying to deal with the many emotions rolling through him.

"And now I want to explain what we shall be doing tonight. An annual tradition was started several years ago at Hogwarts. All of the 5th year students at Hogwarts introduce the 1st year students to the Hogwarts life.

"In recent years, Hogwarts has become a very competitive school. Well, it became that way not long after the Muggle Revolution was started. You'll want to learn as much as possible and know as many people as possible. Hogwarts is your first real opportunity to learn as much magic as you can and make a name for yourself. And I'm telling you to take advantage of it." Percy looked at him seriously, the car squeezing past a few businessmen crossing the street.

"Think about it, Harry. It's _magic_. Why wouldn't you want to learn as much as you can? You start out at Hogwarts learning basic things like turning a beetle into a button, but it's this kind of magic that provides the foundations for much more amazing and complex magic. And," he said, smiling now, "the better you do, the more Hogwarts rewards you. Professor McLain probably already said it to you. The first thing you need to learn how to do is win."

"I thought you said the first thing I had to do was keep my opinions to myself," Harry said, smiling.

"Learn how to multitask," Percy replied fiercely, ignoring his humor. "So, as a 5th year student, I got to pick a 1st year student. And as a prefect, I got to be one of the first people to choose which student I wanted. And I chose you, Harry."

Harry frowned, assuming he was chosen because of his fame.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, Harry. And you'd be correct. You have to understand the nature of our relationship. This could be the start of a great and very beneficial friendship. You'd be surprised at how much I could teach you, especially to give you a head start against all the other first years starting with you this year."

"But won't I be far behind everyone else?" Harry protested, "I only just learned about magic today!"

"The only advantage other students might have over you is if they read ahead and you don't." Percy's brown eyes peered at Harry. "This is the earliest age that we can start learning magic, so even those raised in a magical environment couldn't have learned more than theory, and they also tend to be behind in the mathematics and sciences."

Harry thought about that for a bit. "So, basically, you're using me for my fame, and I'm using you for your knowledge?"

"I wouldn't say it quite like that," Percy laughed. "I'm hoping you grow up to be a useful friend for me to have, and vice versa. No person can know all the magic in the world, and as you get further in your education, you'll start getting into more specific magics. And the more friends you have with different abilities, the more things you'll be able to accomplish with magic."

Harry had never looked at life in such a way before. In the way of taking every advantage and opportunity available.

"Now get out!" Percy said, not in an unfriendly way. "We're here."


	4. 4

Hogwarts: Sink or Swim Method. What if the whole timeline of the tale of the Boy-Who-Lived was moved a little bit into the future? Harry Potter was born in 1993, rather than 1980; as a result, Voldemort's reign lasted 13 years longer than it should have. Harry, instead, enters school in 2004. Hogwarts has changed, just a bit.

**Do or Die**

The sky was already getting darker as Harry followed Percy out the back exit of the Leaky Cauldron.

Percy had shrunk Harry's two books for him again, and then had shrunk the whole car. Percy was so nonchalant about these extreme uses of magic that Harry knew he needed to make himself get over it. Magic was a part of who he was now.

The two young students had quickly passed through the pub, not attracting much attention. Harry supposed students were a common site this time of year, what with school coming up.

They stopped in front of a brick wall, and Harry turned to Percy in confusion.

"See this brick?" Percy asked Harry seriously, pointing to a seemingly random brick. Harry wanted to point out how ridiculous he sounded. "Remember that brick." With that said, Percy flicked his wrist in that odd manner again and his wand appeared; this he used to tap the brick. Right in front of Harry, an opening grew in the wall, letting Harry see into Diagon Alley.

And what a magical site it was.

There were all types of people bustling about. Some wore recognizable clothing, while others wore what looked like cloaks. One woman was wearing a dress that seemed to be made of hundreds or thousands of flowers in various shades of red.

There were wands being waved, and wizards yelling to their sisters, and children chasing one another with a multitude of rainbow bubbles trailing after them.

And there were so many shops, with books and clothes and things Harry couldn't even begin to name. There were moving pictures and flashing lights and Harry was entirely overwhelmed.

"Harry!" Percy snapped finally. "Let's go!"

* * *

><p>Harry was looking straight forward, shoulders straight, making a valiant effort not to stare.<p>

They were at the bank, and there were _goblins._ Percy's lesson had kicked in, and he was keeping his opinions to himself.

With each new thing he learned, his mind was awakened even more to the many possibilities that magic provided. Man, when did his life get so _awesome_?

Percy had taken a break in his lecturing, merely answering a few of Harry's questions while they walked through the Alley. A few of Harry's questions went basically unanswered ('it's in one of your books, I think'). Questions such as 'how did Professor McLain disappear like that?' and 'what the hell is a Slytherin?'

Harry's question of 'what classes am I taking this year?' was greeted with much enthusiasm. The famous young wizard would be taking Charms, Defense, Transfiguration, World History, Algebra, Biology, and Intro to Magic (which would last one term, then change to Latin). There were also many other classes he would be able to take later on. Percy had chattered on about the classes, clearly in his element, and Harry had done his best to remember the many tips Percy attempted to feed him.

Harry had also wanted to stop at all of the stores on the way, but the annoyingly insistent Weasley had dragged him to Gringotts, The Bank, first.

It was capitalized as The Bank because it was apparently the only wizarding bank in Britain. Harry was slightly thrown off.

Now, Percy handed Harry a small golden key, saying, "This is the key to your trust vault. Professor McLain gave it to me. Don't ask me how she got it, it's not my problem."

They stepped into line, a goblin in front of them snarling 'next,' in a guttural tone. It seemed kind of like an accent.

Harry could feel a headache coming on from being surrounded by so many people, as the bank was rather crowded and the witches and wizards seemed to grow louder the longer they stood in line. Harry guessed that people were just getting off work.

"Percy, how much is your currency worth? Galleons, I mean."

"The gold coins are galleons. 17 silver sickles to a galleon, and 29 bronze knuts to a sickle."

"Why 17 and 29?" Harry asked, slightly lost.

"They're prime numbers. Magically important. If you do right, you'll learn all about it."

They moved up in line as another customer, an older looking woman, was helped. The goblin yelled "Scarshield!" and the woman was led away.

"Oh. Well, how much are the coins worth?"

"Um. Well, it's hard for me to put it into perspective for you, quite honestly. Most things they sell in the non-magical world are much cheaper in the wizarding world because they are things much easier for us to make – or, in some cases, for us to steal."

He paused, seemingly regretting saying his last few words to an impressionable young wizard. Harry decided he would give the idea some thought later.

"Anyway, to give a few examples, though, a full course meal at an average restaurant is about one galleon, and buying a new pet owl is five. A portkey to travel to, say, Australia, would be about 30 galleons." He stopped, trying to think of more ideas. "Er, a chocolate bar would be a few knuts. A premade wand is about seven galleons. One school uniform-"

"I get the idea," Harry said, cutting him off. "Thanks, Percy."

They reached the front of the line.

"Good day, sir," Percy said, nodding his head politely. Harry followed his example, giving an awkward nod. "We're here to visit Mr. Potter's vault." He turned towards Harry. "Your key?"

Harry held up the delicate key, and the goblin snatched at it with its sharp claws, inspecting it closely. Harry tried his best to keep the goblin's gaze when the small creature turned its beady eyes upon Harry.

"Griphook!" the goblin teller yelled abruptly, handing the scar-headed boy his key back. Another goblin appeared. "Vault 320!"

* * *

><p>"So am I rich then?" Harry had to ask. "Or does the average witch or wizard have this much money?"<p>

The trip to his vault had been quick. The cart ride had made him feel a bit dizzy, but he had pushed down the feeling as Griphook the goblin opened his vault. Percy had appeared lost in thought, and Griphook didn't seem very open for conversation, so Harry had stayed quiet. He had filled a velvet sack with galleons, provided for by Percy - and he was told he would be able to apply for something that sounded like a debit card as soon as he turned 15 - and then they had quickly left the bank.

Harry had been surprised at the large amount of small gold coins in his vault.

"No, you're rich." Percy looked amused. Harry scowled at him. "Money only counts for so much in the wizarding world, though. If you learn enough magic, you really don't need money for anything. It will be useful to get you through your Hogwarts years, true enough, but..." He trailed off, stopping and looking down his nose at Harry. "You do know that's only your trust vault, right? You have much more stored away in another vault."

Harry's brain froze. If that was true, then _damn_ he was rich. Whatever Percy thought he was talking about, Harry disagreed. Money was always useful.

"Did they leave anything else? Like furniture or pictures or anything?"

"Probably nothing you can access until you reach your majority at age 17," Percy replied calmly.

"Oh."

They walked for a few minutes in silence, Percy clearly leading Harry somewhere with a destination in mind.

"Percy?" He received no answer. "Percy!" The red-haired boy looked around, startled. "Where are we going?"

"Just follow me," Percy said, looking ahead again.

Harry didn't like that answer. He took a few quick steps forward, catching up and falling into step with his companion. "Percy," he said again, "where are we going?"

The red-haired wizard glanced at him and then away again. Harry's baseless anxiety grew tenfold. "Clive's Clinic," Percy said finally, not looking him in the eye.

"A clinic?" Harry stopped dead in his tracks. "Why would we go to a clinic?" Harry had only been to the doctor a few times in his life, and he always associated it with some form of punishment from his uncle.

"Trust me, Harry, you'll be fine," Percy replied, somewhat impatiently. He continued walking, and Harry followed, scowling.

"Okay, how about a compromise?" It was Percy's turn to stop abruptly. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"No," Harry answered, thrown off by the non sequitur.

"Neither have I. Over dinner, I'll explain why it's a good idea to go to the clinic."

The Weasley made a 180 and strode quickly back the way they had just come from.

"Percy," Harry said, clearly exasperated.

"Don't worry, my young friend, we just passed it. I was just thinking how good some pizza sounds right about now."

Thoroughly convinced, Harry quickly followed Percy. Pizza was perfect. Too many things were happening all at once, and pizza sounded gratifyingly normal.

* * *

><p>He had hoped for too much. The pizza Percy had ordered turned out to be a light blue color and seemed to be fizzling slightly as it appeared on the table. Harry swore he heard the pizza hiss as Percy cut the pizza into several slices.<p>

Watching him, Harry had to ask, "When am I going to get a wand?"

Percy smiled, understanding. "As soon as we're done at the clinic. You have my word."

Harry stopped himself from grumbling too much as Percy passed him a plateful of the blue pizza. He sat back and shut his mouth. First rule of magic, got it.

Harry bit into the pizza. It tasted a fair amount like the pizza Harry was familiar with, except it tasted rather like pineapple. Harry chewed for a bit, then swallowed the pizza thoughtfully. No, pineapple wasn't quite right.

He took another bite, surprised to taste not only the not-pineapple flavor, but something else quite spicy that Harry couldn't quite name. The pizza melted in his mouth in a way that was unquestionably delicious.

Between the two wizards, the large pizza was quickly devoured. Every bite was better than the last.

Harry sat back in his chair, content. He looked around the small restaurant, which looked surprisingly normal. Perhaps that was why Percy had taken him here to eat. It looked like any old pizza place, with the exception of the suspicious looking gentleman eating at the corner table who seemed to be covered in fur.

The boy wizard took a long sip of the white-tinted pop that Percy had ordered, called Sweet CoCo Soda. Ridiculous name, Harry thought, but the drink was unexpectedly refreshing.

"That was great, Percy, good idea," Harry complimented.

Percy practically beamed at him, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I thought pizza might be to your liking. Well. On to business, I should think. I want to discuss some magical theory with you. This is the information that will give you an advantage over the other students and the reason why we should stop by Clive's Clinic."

Harry leaned forward, cracking his neck to wake himself up a bit. Right. On to business.


	5. 5

Hogwarts: Sink or Swim Method. What if the whole timeline of the tale of the Boy-Who-Lived was moved a little bit into the future? Harry Potter was born in 1993, rather than 1980; as a result, Voldemort's reign lasted 13 years longer than it should have. Harry, instead, enters school in 2004. Hogwarts has changed, just a bit.

**Do or Die**

"Actually, before we start, I have one question."

Harry groaned to himself. Was it really too much to ask to just sit and have one measly conversation about magic?

"Can you read that sign over there?" Percy pointed to a sign near the windows that clearly showed 'WC' in large letters, with an arrow pointed towards the doors in question.

"Um, yes?" Harry replied, unsure where this conversation was going.

"Oh," Percy seemed surprised. "I would have thought you would need glasses."

"But I have contacts!" Harry protested immediately.

"Contacts?"

"Yes, contacts," the young boy said impatiently. "I've never been a huge fan of glasses."

"I meant, what are contacts?" The Weasley asked, still looking confused.

"Oh. Huh. I put – uh, I mean, they're these little pieces of soft plastic I put directly on my eyes in order to see better," Harry explained. He held his left eye open so that Percy could see the contact covering his bright green eye.

"Oh, gross," Percy said, leaning away. "How could you stick that on your eye? Are those clean?"

"Don't be such a hypocrite, Percy," Harry replied, laughing. "First rule of magic and all that?"

"What? Oh, sorry, Harry. Right. So, moving on. Magical theory and such." Percy took a moment to think, and then sucked in a deep breath. "When one manipulates magic, it is dependent on several things.

"Namely, your health, intent, and experience." He counted these off on his fingers. "I'm simplifying it, but that's the essence of performing a spell. So, I wanted to start by focusing on your health. We can get to the others later."

Percy had taken on a lecturing tone, and stopped to let his words sink in. "Harry, from what you've seen so far, are there any overweight witches? Disabled wizards? Blindness? The obvious answer is no. Magic is a part of who we are, and in laymen's terms, our magic instinctively fights against all that bad stuff.

"It's called internal magic. Every witch and wizard has it. It's entirely unconscious, but we can control it to some extent, and we can use it to our advantage."

There was a lull in the conversation as Percy refilled his soda glass with his wand. Harry watched, wanting Percy to continue talking about magic, but also wanting to go buy his wand _right now_.

Percy continued. "So, say, for example, we had eaten something healthier than this pizza," he said, gesturing towards their empty plates. "Physically, we would be on the way to being healthier, which has a direct, positive impact on your magic. One meal is pretty insignificant, but in the long term, how you take care of your physical health can definitely affect your magic. In fact, it's also known to positively affect our mental health to some extent."

"Harry, this is only the tip of the iceberg of magical theory." The red head smirked. "I'm going to try to give you ever advantage possible."

A waitress passed by, smiling at Percy, and the red-headed wizard took a moment to regain his train of thought. Harry was blushing; he knew the waitress' wink was for Percy, but it still made him flustered.

"So, the plan is therefore to go to Clive's Clinic, which should fix most everything for you, and you should feel noticeably healthier and stronger; physically, mentally, and magically."

Harry took all this information in. It didn't sound fun, but Percy made a convincing argument. He had never put a lot of stake into eating healthy (seeing as he didn't even always eat on a daily basis), but he was definitely interested in becoming stronger magically.

And _bloody hell. _That probably meant it would be a good idea to start exercising. He would have to, in order to make up for the large amounts of pizza he would be eating in the future.

* * *

><p>They were almost at Clive's Clinic, now, Percy leading the way. Harry had a thought, and said, "You know, you kind of made wizards and witches sound almost like some kind of superhuman race."<p>

Percy looked at him, surprised. Clearly, he didn't know what to make of Harry's comment. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you were going on about how, like, magic makes us immune to disease and immune to being fat and the like." Harry laughed lightly, trying to play it off as a joke, but he was genuinely curious to hear Percy's answer.

"Oh, no, Harry. That's not what I meant to say at all. I mean, what you just said was true, but that doesn't make us superhuman. Having magic gives us a whole new set of problems. We have diseases and curses and a surprising number of personal identity problems. In fact, most wizards as they get older seem to get rather crazy." Percy frowned, clearly thinking back to a specific memory.

The boy shook his head, red hair flapping about. "Plus, magicfolk still fall prey to mankind's greatest flaws: idiocy, greed, et cetera, et cetera. You know. The usual list of sins." Percy smiled at him. "Magic is fun, yes, but no one said it would make your life _easier_."

Harry absorbed this, nodding thoughtfully. As they walked, he attempted to organize his thoughts, trying to decide what questions to ask first. It was weird to think that he had learned so much today, but still knew basically nothing.

"Oh, here's a question for you," he said, thinking of their trip so far. "If I'm famous, why has no one recognized me?"

"When we were in the Leaky Cauldron, I cast two very strong Notice-Me-Not Charms over the both of us." Percy sounded amused. "Unless we actively try to get someone's attention, most people pass by us without a second thought." The older boy had clearly been expecting the question.

Harry hadn't even noticed Percy casting the magic. He needed to learn to keep his eyes peeled for that kind of thing.

Harry peppered the red-haired wizard with further questions as they arrived at the clinic. He wanted to know as much as possible about everything.

"Remember, Harry," Percy said, glancing over his shoulder to address the younger wizard. He pushed open the door, and there was a small _ding _echoing from somewhere. "First rule of magic."

It was like an inside joke, except not. _The first rule of magic_. Harry wondered at the reason for the warning.

They walked inside the building, the soft light and handsome dark furniture making the clinic seem surprisingly welcoming.

"Hello, hello!" a man exclaimed, stepping out of thin air right into Harry's personal space. "Dearie me, I didn't mean to come quite so close! My apologies, dear boy! My ability to walk and my ability to perceive depth don't seem to be getting along today."

Percy nodded as if this piece of information made perfect sense.

The man was fairly normal looking, apart from his bright orange eyes and purple suit. He looked _almost _distinguished, but the comb-over of his brown hair ruined it.

Harry let none of these thoughts show. He plastered on a charming smile, held out a hand, and said, "How d0o you do? Harry Potter."

"Yes, yes, very nice to meet you! Hephaestus Hatter would be the name! You look quite terrible, my boy, like you've been trampled on by a herd of centaurs. I can see we have a lot of work to do." He seemed quite happy at the idea.

Harry's smile had become rather fixed. Then he comprehended the name, and his brain stuttered to a halt. 'Hatter?' Percy shot him a warning look.

"Well, do please sit down, the both of you! Mr. Weasley, were you looking to have a checkup, too?" The man turned his penetrating orange eyes upon Percy.

The red-haired wizard blushed uncomfortably. Harry watched with interested eyes; he had been with Percy for quite a bit now, and this was the dark-haired wizard's first time seeing the Weasley flustered. "No, I'm quite alright, Clive, thank you."

Harry wondered at the man's name, and decided just to call him 'sir,' as needed.

As soon as Harry sat in one of the comfortable chairs, the man began waving his wand over Harry and muttering under his breath.

"By the way, Harry. There was a message from Headmaster Dumbledore, through Professor McLain. Another professor will stop by your house in a week's time to take care of a few issues with your relatives. Nothing too much to worry about, I should think. I am told your family will be of no problem in the coming week."

Harry wasn't really sure what Percy meant. He wondered when Percy had had time to receive a message, but decided to focus on the more important question. "Issues with my relatives? What issues?"

"Issues such as these obvious signs of abuse and neglect that I'm picking up, my dear boy!" Clive answered cheerfully.


End file.
